


(inside) we are (soft)

by oncewewerezombies



Series: Homesmut fills : Box of Bad [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Gen, Guro, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, blood everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5636461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any troll, body horror.</p>
<p> <a href="http://vertebraeaker.tumblr.com/post/132760606519/signs-as-gurogore-tropes">These.</a></p>
<p>sagittarius: trying to shove the intestines, organs, viscera back inside. slime everywhere & feeling dizzy</p>
            </blockquote>





	(inside) we are (soft)

**Author's Note:**

> CG: OK FINE, THEN SPEAKING OF WHICH   
>  CG: HE'S ON A MURDEROUS RAMPAGE TOO   
>  CT: D --> He is   
>  CT: D --> How many of us are rampaging murderously, e%actly   
>  CG: I DON'T KNOW, AT LEAST THREE PROBABLY, BUT WHO EVEN KNOWS AT THIS POINT   
>  CG: THE POINT IS, IF YOU SEE HIM, WOULD YOU MIND SNAPPING HIS STUPID WAND IN HALF OR SOMETHING?   
>  CG: AND THEN CHOKE HIM TO DEATH WITH HIS OWN SHITTY PRETENTIOUS SCARF.   
>  CT: D --> Do I really have to   
>  CG: GOD, WHAT IS THE PROBLEM NOW?   
>  CT: D --> I'd prefer not to interact with him   
>  CG: WHY   
>  CT: D --> It's primarily that his advances make me uncomfortable
> 
> AU: Equius encountered Eridan first instead of Gamzee. STILL A BAD END.

Fiddlesticks.

Everything in his chest, his whole thorax, hurt, and he. What. Equius remembers coming through the corridors after conversing with Karkat. He’d argued with Nepeta until she had disappeared into the vents, where he hoped she would be safe. It had not been an easy argument to win, and he is of course aware of her strengths as a huntress, but a highblood on a rampage is not the same as taking down ogres and imps, or cholerbears, even. While he had his orders from Vantas, he was not sure how he would follow them, or if he would follow them at all. This was, surely, a sign that Makara was finally reaching his full potential? Becoming everything he was meant to be?

It really, really hurts.

What had he done? He had been walking through the corridors of the satellite, wondering, listening, hoping that it was only two of the highbloods who were now on the murderous rampage and that there is no one else that he needs to be watchful for. It is no wonder, truly, considering how few of their group had proper functioning moirallegiances. They are very good for a troll’s stability, and both Makara and Ampora were probably two of the trolls who needed them the most. It really is a pity that his and the Heiress’ pale relationship had failed so badly, but personally, he has never understood how anyone could think to get to flush from pale. It’s so. It is. It is wrong. He could never think about Nepeta in such a way, all he feels for her is so beautifully, brilliantly pale.

Why can’t he breathe?

Oh.  


He remembers now.

The first thing he had met walking through the dismal corridors on his way to try and appease the Highblood in some way, was Ampora. The seadweller had turned, all fangs showing and the fins at the side of his face flared aggressively forward. Something white had been glowing, clenched in a fist at his side. Equius had put up a hand, to ask him to stop, to wait, and then Eridan’s hand had come up with the glowing white object, a stick, he had barely had time to see it before this great white light came out of it. A wand? 

It hurts.

He hurts. Everything hurts. Putting a shaking hand to the place where most of the hurt seems to centre on, he feels. He feels wetness. And pain. A shocked sort of moan like he has never made before comes out of his mouth and he can feel tears trail down from his eyes. He is slumped against the wall and he looks down, there is. His mind skips over what he sees when he looks down at his body, he can feel his breathing accelerate. He is sitting in a pool of dark b100 blood and his legs are in front of him, his hand limp in his lap and.

He can see inside himself. The soft damp thing he had touched when he went to press his hand against his abdomen and assess the damage, that had been something inside him. Something soft, never meant to be touched. It’s some sort of disbelieving impulse that has him going to touch it again, and he hears a kind of gasp from above him. It brings his gaze up, his shades are somewhere on the floor, the light is almost too bright and it’s still Ampora. The seadweller is looking at him, shaking, the white light in his hand glowing, scattering points of agony that hurt to look at.

There is a hand behind the other troll, those pinstriped pants are splattered with b100. Oh. It’s his hand. He had put his hand up to try and warn the other off, something, he’s not sure why he did that and when he looks at his other arm, he can see that there is indeed, a missing appendage. It doesn’t even hurt. Shouldn’t it hurt? Maybe everything that has happened to his midsection is overshadowing it.

“This isn’t what I meant to happen.”

Oh, reassuring, Equius wants to tell him. He wants to say something scathing at that ridiculous comment that Eridan has made, as though it could take back what he has done, but all he does when he opens his mouth is cough blood, salt and bitter down his chin and. There are soft wet things in his lap. His insides are in his lap. He is bleeding out, he won’t survive this and he knows it, there is just. Too much damage. He has seen slaughtered trolls before, and he is surprised he is still conscious. It must be his great STRENGTH. He is not sure for once, that he is glad for it.

The things are soft, sticky to touch or maybe that’s just his perception. He tries to pick them up, he doesn’t even know why he’s bothering, there is nothing to hold them in when he presses them back inside. There’s no. He has nothing. There is a hole straight through him to the wall, and there is black pressing at the edges of his vision. He has always been cold, but never. Never like this.

His bloodpusher is pounding in his chest and it’s like it’s all he can hear. It’s better than listening to Ampora blubber, like he hadn’t just. Done this. Whatever it was that he had done, that has led to Equius sitting on the floor with his insides spilling out like the way Captor always left his network cabling, coiling, bleeding. Even when he drained himself so slowly to create the blood bank needed for the Aradiabot, he has never seen so much of his blood at once. He is sure of that. What a waste. Look at it, everywhere. Messy. Untidy.

Did someone make him a proper working doomsday device? Equius always made sure that his would fail before he gave them to Serket. That would have been the only responsible thing to do. Ampora was never to be trusted. Saltwater is so fickle and so harsh.

Oh, fiddlesticks, he’s dropped whatever this. Lump is. It’s fallen out of his lap, it’s on the ground, he really needs to put himself back together. His head is spinning and he coughs, there’s more blood. A tooth. Oh. That does not belong with everything else, it is hard and pointed and everything else is soft. So soft. Cool in his fingers. Some things have a slimy coating on them, viscous and thick, there are ropes and cords in him, there are shapes in all sorts of shades and tints of blue. He had known that he was complicated inside, that there was so much in a troll, he has built bots, he would like everyone to realise just how much of an undertaking that was. To make out of metal, something to replicate all of this soft, organic welter.

There are so many things that go towards making up a troll. There’s so much that’s inefficient, perhaps he can manage to find some way to not need everything that is. Here. In his lap. On the ground. Is this everything? Somehow he feels like there should be more and even as he presses things back inside, they just fall out again. The aching in his head is getting worse, and the way his pusher is pounding in his chest is making it hurt more. Like it’s beating to get out. Join the rest of everything else.

“I really never fuckin’ meant for any of this to happen!”

There’s a growling scream of pure rage – it cuts right through the seadweller’s agonizingly irritating self-rationalizations.

_Nepeta_.

He tries to rise, almost gets a knee underneath him even as his hand tries to press back inside everything that has come out of him. Dizziness cuts his knees out from under him and he curls forward, and everything he had managed to push back inside comes falling right back out. What a waste of his efforts. He. No, this is unacceptable, there is far too much b100 on the ground. Everything is spilling out between his fingers, he can’t keep it back.

Ampora turns, the light in his hand lifting up and Nepeta is falling on him from above like she would fall on a cholerbear from a tree, the look in her eyes a rage that he has never seen in her before. The blue of her claws gleams as she pulls her arm back in a deadly strike, and Eridan is lifting his arm. The formerly cringing troll is bringing his hand up with a terrible purpose in every line of his body language. There is this soft sound like something ionizing, and. LIGHT. He falls back against the wall again and he can’t see anything. He can’t breathe. There is a pressure against his face like the familiar touch of a hand and he thinks he can hear someone weeping.

Oh. Nepeta. He wants to pet her hair, he wants to reassure her but there is. It’s dark. It’s so dark.

And everything is such a mess. He should have done better than this, but he wasn’t quite STRONG enough. He couldn’t have foreseen what Ampora would be armed with, the full effect of it, he wishes Karkat had given him more of an idea. He is. 

He is so truly sorry that he failed her so badly and left her alone.

He hopes she lives.

Because he is very, very aware that he will not.


End file.
